


Signals

by diaphanous87



Series: The Many Ships of Tilly [15]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: A tiny bit of humor, Arguing, Banter, Bathtub Sex, Bed Sex, Creampie, Emmanellain is apparently best wingman here, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Floor Sex, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I love Ishgardian elves, Ishgardian Restoration, Lemon, Marriage Proposal???, Misunderstandings, Multiple Positions, Oral Sex, Post-Shadowbringers, Talks Of Children, Tilly in a red corset is... excellent content, Vaginal Sex, not a bodice ripper because consent is definitely given before the first round, plus a short epilogue, rarepair madness, save a chocobo ride an elezen, sex by the fire, slight Breeding Kink, slight Matchmaker!Haurchefant from a long time ago, spicy fic, talk of heats, the author indulges herself, tiny bit of hinted plot for funsies, tiny bit of miqo'te headcanon, unplanned second part, walk of shame? there is no shame here folks, wingman!Emmanellain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: Artoirel had finally taken on the mantle of Count Fortemps. The ensuing party was quite the crush, crowding the manor ballroom. But his mind wasn't on his title nor were his eyes concentrating on any of his conversation partners. Instead he kept looking at Tilly. When he swooped in to rescue her from being overwhelmed, he had only meant to offer a drink and respite. But it had devolved quickly and ended in anger and guilt. But he also couldn't let her go...
Relationships: Artoirel de Fortemps/Warrior of Light, wrongly implied Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Series: The Many Ships of Tilly [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536589
Comments: 24
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ishgardian elves! I will never be free from the the thirst....
> 
> Please enjoy! There’s a little bit of drama, a little bit of angst, and a whole lot of spicy times!

** Signals**

* * *

“Ma’tylda, may I speak with you?” Artoirel, new Count of House Fortemps, bent down to whisper in the miqo’te ears.

Tilly, a little exhausted from her trips between the Source and the First, nodded. She was still working on finding a way to bring everyone back to the Source with G’raha. But when the party invitation for Artoirel’s taking of the title from his father’s tired hands came, she wasn’t able to refuse. The Fortemps’ men were her family, she would do anything for them. What was one party in the face of all that they had done for her and hers? Nevermind the hateful glares from every eligible noblewoman aimed at her for taking most of the new count’s attention.

“Thank you,” Artoirel said. “My father’s…. oh well, I suppose it’s my study now. It is open.” He handed off his half-empty champagne glass and her almost full glass to a passing servant. “Come.” The elezen guided her, his hand pressed at the small of her back. They maneuvered through the crowd and the noise level dropped significantly. A crooked grin crossed his face at her blatant sigh of relief when they entered the study. “I thought you looked like you needed rescuing.”

“My knight in shining armor,” Tilly drawled. They laughed quietly together. Her ears flicked. “It was getting a bit much, I admit.” She ignored how the warmth of his broad hand on her back felt like a fiery brand through her silk dress and her corset. “Did you really need to speak to me?” She touched his forearm with light fingers. She leaned toward him, head tilted. In the candlelight her pupils rounded. Tilly perked her ears forward and her tail twitched at the tip.

“Not quite…” Artoirel lowered his eyelids, looking at her through his lashes. “I may have needed a break as well and you’ve always proven yourself to be excellent company.” He stepped away to the cabinet that had decanters of drinks and squat glasses within. Steady on now… “May I interest you in a glass of port? Or something else?”

“Do you have any mirror apple whiskey?”

“Ah. Haurchefant’s favorite…” An awkward silence fell for a long moment. “Aye, I see the bottle,” Artoirel said, clearing his throat. He turned around, decanter and a pair of glasses in hand. He set the glasses down on the desk. Tilly came closer to watch his elegant hands carefully pop off the top of the half-filled decanter. The dark-haired elezen glanced at her throat where rubies glinted on her wide gold choker. It nearly matched her hair which was a few shades pinker than the jewels. Her lifted bosom, courtesy of her corset and the low cut of her neckline, moved with each breath. He jerked his gaze away to watch the dark gold liquid pour into the glasses. “Mind you, this has quite the kick to it.”

Tilly took the proffered glass, cradling it in her hands. “I like how tart it is,” she confessed. She sipped and let out a little cough. “Just as I remember…”

“Hmm.” Artoirel took his own sip from his glass. He blinked in surprise when she quickly chugged the rest of the two fingers he had given to her. A flush colored her cheeks, traveling down to her chest. This wasn’t good… “Tilly?” He gaped as she poured herself three more fingers of apple whiskey. She gulped it down and sighed. “Tylda?!”

“Shhh, Artie. It’s fine. My alcohol tolerance is high.” With a quiet clink, Tilly set the glass down on the desk. “How sturdy is this desk? It’s oak, yeah?”

Artoirel blushed, sweat beading at his temples beneath his black hair. “What are you doing?” he squeaked. The miqo’te had hopped up to sit on the desk on the other end from the decanter of whiskey. Her slim hands started to hitch up her skirt and petticoats. Her little feet were encased in silk slippers and her legs covered in black silk stockings. Oh Fury, the sight alone was nearly enough to destroy him. “Tilly, Tilly no. This is not why I brought you in here!”

Tilly shot him a sharp look. “If you think I didn’t notice you staring at my throat and my breasts nearly all night, you’ve got another thing coming, Artie.” She kicked off her dancing slippers. “Look, thigh highs.” Her skirts were now indeed bunched up to her thighs. Thighs strong enough to launch herself into the air like the expert dragoon that she was but also fine enough to look so lovely in black silk and lace. Artoirel swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Haurchefant…”  
  
“Has nothing to do with this,” she snapped. Tilly puffed her cheeks in annoyance. “I never… we never touched. It wasn’t even like that! This is different! I just want—“

The elezen lord clenched his teeth. “He loved you,” he grit out. “I will not be his replacement!” He winced at the hurt expression that crossed her face.

“How dare you?!” Tilly reached across the desk for her empty glass. She heaved it at his head. Artoirel scrambled to dodge. The glass shattered against the wall. She shoved down her skirts and stood up. She tilted her chin up. “You were never his replacement. But if that’s what you want to think, then so be it!” She smoothed her full skirt over her petticoats. Her bosom heaved and her green eyes flashed like the short fangs in her snarl. Angrily pulling on her dancing slippers, Tilly twisted away from the desk. “I’ll be at the Forgotten Knight. See you never!” She ran out of the study.

Artoirel uselessly reached out his hand. “You have….” He sighed as the door slammed closed. “You have a room here.” He reached up to rub his face. “You fucking idiot!” he scolded to himself.

The door creaked open and Emmanellain peaked in. “Hey, I heard shouting…” His brows furrowed. He stepped into the study and closed the door. “Is that glass all over the floor?”

“I am a fool,” Artoirel told his brother. He bowed his head and rubbed his temples.

“Strange, that’s usually my job.” The younger Fortemps son skirted around the glass shards. “Was it Tilly yelling at you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you reject her?” Emmanellain scowled at the guilt on his brother’s face. He crossed his arms. For once his babyish face looked fierce. “Artoirel, you dumb shit! Did you reject her in truth?”

Artoirel froze. He jerked his head up to stare at Emmanellain. “What?” he breathed in disbelief.

“Oh my gods, you did!” The younger brother of the two facepalmed. “I cannot believe… Tilly has been pining for you for moons! Every time she came to help Francel with the restoration, who did she visit? Well?”

“Me?”

“YES!” Emmanellain graciously did not swing a fist at his dumbfounded eldest sibling. “Please tell me you did not bring up Haurchefant. Please, Artie, tell me you didn’t.” He clenched his jaw at the telling silence. “You fucking idiot!” His hands shot out to grab the lapels of his brother’s evening coat. He shook the older elezen hard. “They were best friends, moron!” he howled. “They didn’t even kiss! Tilly said the very idea sounded gross and our dear brother agreed!” He shook him some more, uncaring that Artoirel was clawing at his wrists. He wasn’t a cowering fop but a commander of Ishgard. Haurchefant’s boots were hard to fill still even after three years but Emmanellain wasn’t a boy playing at a man anymore.

“Emmane, let me go!”

“Absolutely not!” Emmanellain pulled his brother close so that they were nose to nose. “You listen to me! You are going to end this stupid party. You are going to change clothes. You are going to march your dumb arse to The Forgotten Knight. You are going to **grovel** at Ma’tylda’s feet for forgiveness for every dumb word that came out of your mouth!” He shook him again. “Are you understanding the words coming out of my mouth?!”

“Yes! Let me go!” Artoirel coughed when Emmanellain dropped him. He stumbled back. When had his baby brother gotten so forceful? And taller than he? “Aye.” Panting, he straightened his evening coat. “Let’s bring this party to a close.” The elezen count took a deep breath. “And then I have a woman to beg forgiveness from.”

Emmanellain snorted. He took a swig of whiskey straight from the decanter. Before his elder brother could protest the uncouthness of his actions, he shoved him out of the study. “The things I do for my siblings… honestly.”

* * *

Fighting tears, Tilly stumbled into her last minute inn room. She threw the golden wing-shaped hairpins from her short hair at the wall. Her choker, that she had crafted herself just for the party, flew across the room to join the hairpins. Bracelets were ripped from her wrists and armlets from her biceps. They joined the violently discarded pile of jewels. Even her earrings hanging off of her agitatedly flicking ears were thrown. All rubies to match the Fortemps coat of arms…

“You idiot! You idiot!” Tilly wasn’t quite sure if she was yelling at the absent Artoirel or herself. “Haurchefant, your brother is the stupidest!” Nevermind, she was yelling at Artoirel. “You were wrong… he doesn’t want me at all.”

_Tilly, I do believe my eldest brother likes you! After we get Aymeric back, you must speak with him. I’ve always wanted a sister!_

_I will not be his replacement!_

Tilly growled as she summoned her pack from her armiger. She viciously dug through it for her face wipes. She scrubbed hard at her face to remove her minimal make up, the kohl around her eyes and the red of her lipstick and the soft pink of her blush. Dropping the used wipes into the wastebasket, she stood in the middle of the room. Her face was pink from the alcohol, anger, and the vigorous scrub.

With shaking hands, the miqo’te undid the front laces of her dress. The silk slid down to pool at her stocking covered feet. She shoved off her petticoats. Stepping out of the pile of fabric and lace, Tilly sat on the bed roll off her stockings. They were flung away. The black silk fluttered to the floor. The delicate lace at the tops seemed ridiculous now…

A knock sounded at her door.

Tilly’s ears swiveled to point forward. She turned her head and frown. Another knock rattled against the wood. She huffed and pulled on a wool night robe from her pack. She tied it at the waist and stomped to the door. The fuchsia haired warrior jerked the door open, lips parting to spew scathing words. But the words died in her throat as she looked up.

“Ma’tylda…” Artoirel flinched when the door slammed in his face. “Okay, I deserved that. Tilly, please! I need to talk to you!” He thumped his forehead against the wood, his hands pressing on the carved panels. “I’ve come to apologize!”

“KEEP IT DOWN OUT THERE!” someone bellowed from a room down the hall. Thankfully the yell didn’t come from the rooms on either side of hers, which meant that they were empty…

“Tilly! Tilly, let me apologize!” The elezen lord slapped his hands on the door. “I’ve been a chocobo’s ass of the highest order! Tilly!” He stumbled when the door jerked open. “Ma’tylda!”

“You’re disturbing the neighbors!” she hissed. She grabbed the front of his casual coat and pulled him into her room. “What?” She slammed her door shut and whirled around. Her arms crossed, tail lashing behind her. She jumped when Artoirel fell to his knees before her. He bowed. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m groveling,” Artoirel said to the cheap carpet. “The things I said, that I implied, they were all wrong! Forgive me!”

“If Haurchefant were here, he’d punch you in the head.” Tilly sighed. She pushed her bare foot against his shoulder. “Get up, you dummy.” She squeaked when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle hold. He looked up at her with sad blue eyes. “Stop making that face…” The Warrior of Light/Darkness frowned. “I’m mad at you.”

“You should be.”

“Haurchefant was the brother that the Tia of my village never were.”

“Of course.”

“The big dork was going to matchmake us.”

“Oh…” Artoirel flushed. “I… must have been obvious to him.”

“Why do you think every woman in the ballroom, married or not, looked like they wanted to gut me?” Tilly tried to pull her ankle out of his hold. “Artoirel, please let go of my foot.” He dropped her ankle like it was a hot popoto. “Thank you.” She turned her back to him, crossing her arms. “And I didn’t care, you know. They were more than welcome to try. It’s been awhile since I’ve thrown a bitch through a window.” Her lips reluctantly curved up into a smile at the sound of his stifled laugh. Spinning on her heel, Tilly widened her stance and pointed down at him. “You are in so much trouble with me!”

“As I should be.”

“I should punish you!”

“Yes, please do so.”

Tilly stamped her foot. “Stop being so agreeable!” she cried in frustration. “I’m trying to scold you!”

“I assure you, chérie, that Emmanellain beat you to it,” Artoirel drawled, fighting a smile. He lost the fight and grinned at her befuddled face. The way her ears drooped as the wind was taken from her sails was adorable. “Aye, that Emmanellain.”

“Baby brother has grown up…” Tilly mused. But she straightened up, squaring her shoulders. “But that doesn’t matter! You are still in trouble!”

“I am but your humble servant,” Artoirel said in all seriousness. “Do with me as you will.” His breathing became shallow as she approached him. Her calf muscles beneath sun kissed skin flexed before his downward gaze.

Slim fingers touched his smooth dark hair, combing through the strands. Slowly they drifted down. Butterfly light touches brushed the delicate shell of his point ears. His breathing hitched. But the hands trailed further down still to cup his face. Gently they guided up his head so that Artoirel was looking up at the woman standing above him. Candlelight lovingly highlighted the curve of her cheeks and the soft line of her round jaw. Her bright hair with its golden highlights seemed richer in shade in the dim light. Bright green eyes like spring leaves seemed to stare right into his soul. And like a benediction, Tilly pressed her lips to his forehead. He closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

_Forgive me._

_Forgiven._

“You’re never anyone’s replacement,” Tilly murmured. “Do not ever think that again.”

“Yes, my lady,” Artoirel replied, his blue eyes opening to stare at her once more. “Ma’tylda,I have been a chocobo’s arse…”

“Correct. But please go on.” She made a soft noise when he cupped her calves in his warm hands. His thumbs rubbed her smooth skin. She held his face in her trembling hands. She resisted the urge to nip his ear.

“I said terrible things for which I now apologize.” The elezen lord licked his lips. “And I apologize for staring so blatantly at your chest and throat like some uncouth panting mongrel.”

“Hilda wasn’t even there. Also don’t call her that, she’s my friend.”

“Hush, I’m not finished.” Artoirel nervously chuckled like a school boy. “You are amazing and wonderful. To know that I hold your affections is the headiest revelation. It beggars belief and so I did not believe at first. But there you went, hiking up your skirt and ready to go.” He thumped his head against her sternum, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I almost died right there when I saw your thighs and the lace of your stockings. A man can only take so much, my dear.”

“Artie, you’ve been looking at me like I was the last piece of cake and you were starving,” Tilly deadpanned. “And then you take me somewhere private. What was I supposed to think?” She pinched his neck, reveling in his yelp. “And then you were all ‘can I interest you in some fancy booze’ and I figured you only wanted a tumble. And if that was all I could get, then I would take it and bury my heart.”

Artoirel made a strangled noise, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Nay! Nay, you deserve the world, Ma’tylda! You are not a casual tumble on the desk!” He paused. “By the way… is that your corset underneath your robe? It’s very hard right here…” He pulled back his head to stare up at her since he was still kneeling. Her hands fell to rest on his shoulders.

“Yes, that’s my corset. Way to destroy the heartfelt conversation, Artie.” Tilly laughed, her ears swaying as she shook her head. She flicked the tip of her tail against his bicep. “Silly, why are all of you Fortemps boys goofy?”

“I fear it is in the blood.”

“Your father seems to not jive with that conclusion.” She rubbed his broad shoulders. “But what do I know, eh? Maybe I just haven’t seen it yet.”

“Aye, he’s never thrown a snowball at the back of your head before,” Artoirel said. He grinned at her giggle. “He wouldn’t dare. You are his favorite, after all.” He smoothed his hands to the back of her knees. Her skin was so warm against his palms. His eyes darkened, watching her lick her lower lip. “Tilly, please say you forgive me,” he begged. He felt his back tense up, his thigh muscles twitching. The desire to surge to his feet and pick her up pounded in his head. The elezen minutely tightened his grip on her knees. “Tylda.”

Tilly’s nose flared. Her slit pupils widened and rounded. The tip of her tail froze, her ears angled forward. “You’re forgiven,” she croaked. “Please get up here.”

The miqo’te gasped as the Ishgardian did so in a blur of motion. He grabbed the back of her thighs beneath her robe to pick her up. He rested her bottom on the little table that came with the room, wedging his hips between her spread legs. Her leonine tail thumped the table top. Her robe fell open. The tie had unraveled to expose her Fortemps red corset and the tops of her heaving chest. She gripped his biceps for balance as she was tipped back. Her little feet kicked behind him. Artoirel jerked open his jacket and tossed it onto the floor. His tunic, a basic cotton, was the same green as her eyes. The lacing at his throat was loose, the ends of the strings hanging down as he curved over her. He planted his elbows on either side of her head. All the while he maintained eye contact with Tilly. He slowly smiled, a wicked glint in his blue eyes.

“Hello, kitten,” Artoirel drawled. “How are you this fine eve?”

“I don’t know, my lord. I’m a little occupied, as you can very well imagine,” Tilly replied, matching his playful tone. She wriggled underneath his torso, her smalls brushing against the front of his tenting breeches. She fluttered her eyelashes at him as she stroked her hand over the small visible sliver of his chest. “Though I’m sure I could make some time for you?”

“You are most gracious,” he murmured. “Truly a lady of generosity and kindness.” He leaned the rest of the way down, his lips hovering over hers. “May I kiss you?”

“Please do so.” Tilly’s lips parted beneath his as he kissed her. She let out a little sigh that he swallowed. His jaw clicked, his mouth moving against hers and their tongues rubbing together. Tilly gripped the front of his tunic. She moaned, her eyes fluttering shut. Her ears drifted backward to lay against her skull. When they parted, both were panting.

“I need you out of this corset. It’s very lovely but very in the way.” Artoirel flicked his fingers against the boning.

“It is a little uncomfortable…! Hey!” Tilly gasped as he flipped her onto her belly on the table. Her toes barely brushed the carpet. She wiggled her bottom, her tail curling around his thigh. “Can you even unlace it?”

“I am more than capable, not some green boy with his first woman.”

“Better be glad I’m not the jealous type!” Tilly teased.

Artoirel laughed. He stroked his hand down the back lacing. “How in the world did you lace this by yourself?” he wondered.

“Jandelaine helped me get ready for the party earlier.”

“Who?!”

“Oh, no one important~!”

(Elsewhere in Ishgard a particular Aesthetician gasped in offense in his brother’s face for some seemingly inexplicable reason. The brother kicked him in the shin for the spittle that landed on his cheek.)

“Damn this knot!” Artoirel hissed a few choice Ishgardian curses as he tried to wriggle the lacing loose. “We shall have to speak of this Jandelaine and his knot tying later!” He propped his hands on his hips. “How much do you like this lacing?”

“I won’t cry if you decide to slice through it.” Tilly looked over her shoulder. “Knife by the bedside.” She grinned at his surprise. “Honestly, Artie. Of course I have knives hidden everywhere. It’s not paranoia if they are really out to get you.”

“You have got to stop hanging around Estinien so much,” Artoirel muttered, fetching the knife. “My apologies for doing this.”

Tilly scoffed. “It can be replaced.” The blade went through the lacing with no effort. The corset was parted at her back. She took a deep breath. “Oh, that’s nice.” She giggled when her elezen lover kissed the indents the boning had left in her skin. “Artoirel…” She shivered as he licked up her spine in one stroke. “Oh!”

“Where shall I put your knife?” he asked against her shoulder. He scrapped his blunt teeth along the crook of her neck.

“Um, um, anywhere?” Tilly laughed when the blade sailed through the air to sink into the back of her door. “There is good. Excellent aim, my lord.” She squealed as she was lifted up out of her corset on the table and turned around. Her limbs wrapped around him. She grinned. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The elezen brushed a kiss along her temple. “Bed?”

“Sure. Do make sure to remove your boots.” She guffawed as she bounced onto the bed. Laughing, Tilly sat up to watch him hop around removing his boots. She crooked her finger at him. “Come here, sir.” Tilting backward onto the bed, she pulled him above her as he climbed in. Her hands shoved up under his tunic. Her callouses stroked his skin.

Artoirel reached over his shoulder to pull his tunic up and over his head. He groaned as her fingers danced along his sides. He threw his tunic away to the floor. The miqo’te beneath him palmed his chest, fingers spread wide. He grunted. He proceeded to cup her breasts. The full, supple flesh barely filled his broad hands. Though considering her proportions, short even for an average miqo’te, but elegantly muscled, they were large in comparison to the rest of her. His thumbs swept over her perked nipples. His eyes darkened further when she groaned and arched into his touch. Her thighs cradled his hips, her ankles crossing at his back. She undulated against him. He wheezed.

A heady feeling, knowing she was feeling pleasure at his touch.

Stroking her soft skin, he bent down to kiss the scar that nearly led to her bisection at a madman’s blade. But Artoirel did not speak of the incident that led to the mark. That man would never touch her again… So he kissed it and moved on.

Tilly panted, dragging her blunted nails over his nipples, She grinned, short fangs flashing, at his moan. But then she gasped as he laved his tongue over one of her nipples, swirling the tip around the pert flesh. Her hips jerked up as he blew across the wet skin. He smirked up at her before switching to the other for the same treatment. She warbled a cry, heat zinging through her. The miqo’te felt clever hands at the tie of her smalls above the base of her tail. Fingers stroked her tail and her empty cunt clenched. She squeaked. A deep, masculine laugh echoed in her furred ear as somehow the man above her managed to free her from her knickers. They ended up sailing over his shoulder.

At least he didn’t rip them.

“Come back here!” Tilly gasped when her elezen slid down her body. The back of her thighs were gripped and her knees were hooked over strong, broad shoulders. “Oh, oh! Oh gods, Artoirel!” Her hands clutched at her sheets. Her breathing sped up, ribs expanding and contracting at pace. She choked on air when he kissed the slight curve of her lower belly. She thumped her tail against the bed. “Shit!” She struggled up to her elbows to see.

Moving his hands down so that his thumbs could spread his lover’s lower lips open, Artoirel looked up her body. A dangerous smile spread his mouth into a wicked curve. “Look at me,” he crooned. And without breaking eye contact, he slowly dragged his tongue up her wet folds and swirled around her swollen clitoris. His eyes creased at the corners when she gasped and cried out. She shook, her elbows moments away from collapsing beneath her. Her eyes were nearly black so wide were her pupils.

Tilly’s toes curled as he began to explore the folds of her sex with his tongue. His ears twitched with every squeak and sigh emitted from her lips as he found a new spot of pleasure. He blew across her clitoris and her voice rose. Artoirel nosed the little nub before thrusting his tongue into her entrance. She choked on a scream and collapsed backward. She began to beg as his right hand joined in, stroking her folds before replacing his tongue inside of her. The elezen suckled her clit, licking around it as well. His fingers crooked once he found the spot that made her writhe. Stroking it, he sucked hard on her swollen nub.

Tilly’s body locked up, cunt squeezing around his fingers, as she peaked. Her scream was soundless. She thrashed but he held her hips down with his other arm across them. He furrowed his brows and kept thrusting his fingers. His little lover fell over the edge again, toes and tail curling. She managed a sob as her body arched. Her ears trembled.

But Artoirel, now that he had her, was unrelenting.

Without mercy, blue eyes gleaming, the elezen worked her toward a third orgasm. Her heels thumped his back and she squealed. His hand just went faster against her inner pleasure spot.

Tilly grabbed at his hair, her body curving forward over his head. Her hips rocked against his mouth. She trembled and shook, her eyes rolling back. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” Her voice rang out. One hard thrust of his three fingers held together finished her off. Heat and pleasure shot through her veins. Her cunt bore down on his hand, her wet arousal coating anew his fingers. “Artoirel!”

Artoirel slowed now, gently stroking her soaking folds. He peppered kisses along her trembling thighs. The Sun Seeker fell backwards, hands on the pillow on either side of her head. He rose up to undo his breeches. Her legs were still over his shoulders and there they would stay. Reaching, he freed his straining cock. Wrapping his wet hand around his shaft, he stroked it. The dark haired elezen grabbed her hip with his other hand. He pulled her closer. “Ready?” he asked as he aligned the head of his cock with her entrance. The wet heat against his sensitive sex felt so good. She nodded, breathless. “Words, Tylda.”

“Ready! I’m so ready! Please!”

“Good.” The count nudged his cock right at her lower lips, the flesh spreading around the head. He planted his fists on the bed by her hips. His dark hair flowed down around his face as he bowed his head over her. His knees braced near her bottom. Slowly he sank his cock into her. She stretched around him, engulfing his head and shaft. Her orgasms had loosened her up enough so that it wasn’t too tight for him to fit. The heat surrounding his cock nearly stole his breath. He let out a shaky sigh.

“Long…” Tilly gasped. She could feel the slide of his cock, the sweet stretch of her body taking him in. “Oh gods.” She clawed at her sheets, tossing her head back and forth. “So good!”

“Flattery, my lady,” Artoirel managed to say with a wheezing laugh. He huffed when he bottomed out finally. The base of his cock was flush with her lower lips. “Damn.” He paused, sweating. His pale skin gleamed from it in the candlelight. “Perfect. So perfect a fit, darling.” His hands rose to stroke the front of her thighs. “Alright?”

“Move!” Tilly demanded, trying to thrust her hips. But thanks to the fact that her knees were hooked over his shoulders, she had no leverage. “Please!”

“By your leave.” The elezen withdrew just as slowly as when he first entered her. A smirk curled the corner of his lips at her gasping breaths. His hips undulated as he kept the pace slow. His eyelidss fluttered as he savored the feel of her. She moaned in concert with his groan. “Fuck…”

“Harder!”

“So demanding.” But he choked when she purposely squeezed her cunt. “I see the game, chérie. Very well.” Artoirel lifted her knees from his shoulders, his palms cupping their backs. She slid up so only her shoulders were braced on the bed. She scrambled her hands at the bed, gasping. His next thrust was hard, the slap of their skin meeting echoing in the room. The bed rocked with the force of it. Slowly he withdrew only to slam back into her cunt. Her breasts bounced in time with his thrusting. Slow and then hard and fast, over and over again. She cried out. “Like this?” the elezen asked between panting breaths. He laughed low and deep when she moaned loudly. The sloppy wet sound of their coupling echoed in his pointed ears, his sack slapping against her lush bottom. “So wet, my darling. Does it feel good, hm?” But then he stopped, buried deep in her. “A change, I think.”

Tilly wheezed as her legs were lowered to go around his hips. He pressed down, his chest above her face. She felt his forearms hook under her shoulders. The miqo’te clutched at his ribs. He began thrusting his cock into her but this time it was fast and hard. The bed rocked and swayed, creaking in time with his rhythm. Tilly hitched her legs higher and wider around him. All the better to take his cock. He adjusted his hips to thrust at a different angle. She wailed before biting his chest. Artoirel grunted, the pain mixing with the pleasure. He bowed his head and rocked into her faster still, adding a grinding motion with his hips. Her ears flicked his clenched jaw. Her short fangs released him to sing her pleasure beneath him.

Tailing thumping the bed, Tilly was climbing toward her peak even without direct stimulation to her clit. He was just so big and she was stretched so full. Adding the grinding of his pubic bone to her swollen clitoris was nearly enough. She scored red lines with her blunt nails along his ribs. She begged. “I need! I need!” she cried. “Art, please!”

“Come on, come on!” Artoirel heard and obeyed. Dragging his arm down from beneath her shoulder, he circled her clit with his thumb in time with his thrusting. Her passage began to squeeze and flex around his cock. He pressed and circled his thumb harder. He fought his own peak, the heat rising up his spine. “One more, one more!” He nipped the tip of her ear.

Tilly screamed soundlessly and arched her back, robbed of her voice by the lightning of pleasure zagging through her body. Her eyes rolled. She jerked and writhed. Her cunt milked the cock within her.

Artoirel let out a long groan, hilting himself completely in his lover. His hips twitched as his cock painted her passage with his seed in bursts. He ground his hips down, the relief and pleasure of his release burning in his veins. He felt her ankles uncross behind him and rise along his ribs as she kept coming, her thighs shaking. He cursed at the feel of her cunt squeezing him for every onze his sack could give at the moment. Seed leaked from the seam where they were joined. His hand that had been at her clit gripped the side of her thigh. He curved over her as her body drained him dry of his seed. The elezen sobbed, hips jerking.

By the end of her release, Artoirel was nearly comatose. He barely had enough mind to roll to his side so that he wouldn’t crush Tilly or her tail. With a wet pop, his softening cock came free. He laid next to her, gulping in air. Her hand slid into his, intertwining their fingers. Tilly’s feet were flat against the bed and her knees bent up. Seed pooled on the bed and beneath her bottom. She fought to catch her breath.

“Holy shit,” Tilly managed to say after several more minutes of recovery. Her elezen giggled, turning so he could press his face to her shoulder. He reached over and cupped one of her breasts with his free hand. He massaged it. She hummed.

“We should… we should clean up,” Artoirel panted.

“I don’t think my legs are working right now.”

“That’s fair.” He sat up. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed was a fight but he won. He stood and barely wobbled. “Right then. Up we go.” Artoirel scooped up the limp miqo’te. He stumbled to the bathroom attached to her inn room. Letting down her legs, he held her steady as she slid down to her tiptoes. Tilly pressed her face to his chest, humming. He used his free hand to turn the handles of the tub to turn on the water. Hot water flowed, steaming rising. He stopped it midway up. “Easy, easy.” The elezen picked her up again to sit her on the little counter by the sink. Wetting a washcloth in the sink, he proceeded to gently wipe her nethers. She wriggled and whined. “Hush, sweetling.”

“Sensitive,” Tilly complained. She pouted at him as he stood up again. “What about you?” She smiled as he cleaned his sex as well. “Bath?” Giggling, she was swung up into his arms. Together they got into the tub, the water now just above warm. He arranged her so that she was in his lap in the water. At their feet was the tub faucet. She reclined against his chest as he leaned back. “S’nice…”

“Hmph, my tub in the manor is bigger.” Artoirel’s long legs could barely stretch out before him. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Resting his forehead against the side of her neck, he sighed. “Will you come home?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know.” She stroked his forearm, the muscle flexing beneath her fingertips. “I do distinctly remember saying see you never.”

“Ma’tylda.”

Tilly laughed, turning in his arms. She hugged his neck and looked up at him. “I can always take those words back,” she said, narrowing her eyes with her playful smile. “But only if…”

“What?” Artoirel asked, tilting his head. His long hair, limp still from sweat and the steam, nearly touched the water.

“Only if I can keep you.”

“Oh, is that all?” He smiled charmingly at her. The sweet expression was almost like a punch to the gut. Tilly resisted the urge to pinch his cheek for the sassy gleam in his eye. “Only if I can keep you back.”

“Deal.” Tilly threw away her control and pinched his cheek anyway. She squealed with laughter as he dug his fingers into her ribs to tickle her. Water splashed about as they played. But her bottom scooted back against his interested cock. Her tail curved up out of the water. She smirked and reached back to grab the hard shaft. Her lover moaned. She guided his cock to her entrance and sank onto it. Tilly moaned and arched.

The water splashed for a different reason now as she rocked her hips. Artoirel bent to mouth at her neck, tasting water and sweat on his tongue. His hands gripped her hips to help guide her riding. Tilly braced one hand on his shoulder, the other delving between them to play with her clit. The slow burn of her orgasm flowed through her. She peaked as he thrust up. She warbled a soft cry. His cock filled her with seed again, though the volume was much reduced.

Artoirel rested his cheek between her flicking ears. “At this rate, I’m going to get you with child,” he huffed. But he kept his softening cock buried in the miqo’te in his arms. The thought wasn’t awful actually.

Tilly blinked. “My contraceptive is expired,” she said after a moment.

“Oh.” His cock twitched in a valiant effort to get hard again. But it was too soon.

“I’m not taking a tea either. Unless you don’t want a child? Though with you...” She blushed, lowering her gaze. “I would like one.”

“Tilly, are you trying to tell me to impregnate you?”

She leaned back, gripping his biceps. She looked at him for a long moment. “Would that be bad?” she asked.

“Can… can miqo’te and elezen have children?”

“Had a cousin who was half and half.” She tilted her head. “My heat is coming up in a week.” She swiveled her hips. And there it was, a hardening of the cock inside her. “It’ll be… oh!” She bounced in his lap, his hands moving her hips. He grew harder. “I see the idea! The idea is! Appealing! Yes!” Her back arched, her head bent backward. “Oh! Oh!” She shrieked as Artoirel stood and got out of the tub. He pulled out of her and bent her over the little sink counter. Her toes barely touched the tiled floor. Her tail curled up and out of the way. He entered her from behind, hips slapping against her bottom. The lush cheeks rippled from the force of his thrusting. “More!”

“If this is what you’re like when not in heat, I may just die next week,” Artoirel panted. “But if you deign to allow me to service you in your time of need, who am I to deny my darling? Fuck!” He gripped her hips tighter. The velvety wet heat surrounding his cock squeezed. “I am! I am at your service!” Reaching down and around, the elezen played with her clit. “Fury preserve, I’m already close!” He hissed and rubbed her harder.

“Artoirel!” Tilly cried, tipping over the edge. The milking of his cock finished the man off, his sack releasing only a few bursts of seed. He groaned, his shoulders heaving. “Yes, yes, my nuhn… so good…”

Artoirel stroked her sides and back. He whimpered when he felt the rumble of her purr all the way down to his cock. “Damn, I have nothing more. Mercy.” His forehead clunked against the looking glass above the sink and counter. “Are you sure you’re not already in heat?”

“Hm, not quite.” Tilly chuffed when he groaned at the idea. “Hope you don’t have plans next week.”

“I’ll tell my chamberlain to cancel everything.”

* * *

**END**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artoirel and Tilly sneak back home right before dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control. You're welcome.

* * *

“Is it done?’

“Aye, father, it is done. Dear Brother nearly sabotaged himself but I made sure he fixed it. By this time next year, I suspect you’ll have a grandchild to bounce on your knee and spoil rotten.”

“Excellent. Just as Haurchefant planned, late as the execution of said plan was. Well done, Emmanellain.”

A bow was given. “Of course, father. Thank you.” A smile flashed. “A knight lives to serve.”

A pair of wine glasses toasted to the successful outcome of their plan before the two Fortemps men left for bed.

* * *

Predawn light was beginning to lift the darkness of the late evening.

Sighing, Honoroit opened the back door once he heard the jangle of keys. “My lord and lady, welcome back,” he intoned. He dutifully ignored the fact that his master’s brother had the Warrior of Light slung over his shoulder. And that she was definitely in a robe and nightgown with woolen slippers. The young elezen didn’t want to know. Lord Emmanellain had woken him for this but that didn’t mean he needed details. “I have prepared your rooms, my lord. Is there aught that I may do for you?”

Please say no…

“No, thank you, Honoroit.” Artoirel stepped past him. Tilly cheerfully waved at the teen, her other hand clinging to her elezen lord’s coat. “You are free to seek your bed once more. I can trust that we will have your discretion?”

“Don’t bully him, Artie.”

“Aye, my lord. I shall be the soul of discretion. Lady Ma’tylda, kind as always.” Honoroit bowed, closed the door, and locked it. “Have a good evening.”

“It’s almost morning.” Tilly said, fighting a smile.

“Have a good morning.”

Artoirel and Tilly watched him flee at a decorous jog of a walk. “Now who was bullying him?” he asked her. Playfully tapping his hand on her bottom, he began to climb the backstairs of the manor. “Almost morning…. Honestly.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She wagged her tail, the fur brushing his cheek. “He’s a good boy.”

“So he is. Emmanellain is lucky to have someone so loyal by his side.” Artoirel slid open the discrete panel that led out into the upstairs hallway of the family wing. Tilly closed it behind him by reaching out from her perch over his shoulder. “I am exhausted. You have worn me down to the bone, my dear.”

“Oh no, we better get you into bed,” Tilly sang, quietly giggling. She bit her lip and shook as he shushed her.

“Shhhh…” The door to his rooms opened, its well-oiled hinges not emitting a sound. “Thankfully my chamberlain is in his own room in the other wing. He’d probably die of embarrassment if he saw us.” Artoirel set his lover down on her feet onto the soft fur rug of his solar. A fire burned in the hearth. “Now then, bed. Though you are the only one dressed for it…” He blinked when her robe dropped to the floor. She kicked off her night slippers to curl her toes into the fur rug. “Ah, I see you’re making yourself comfort- Tilly!” The elezen choked on a laugh as he watched her shove off her nightgown. No smalls… why hadn’t he noticed that? He gulped.

“I sleep in the nude whenever possible, my lord,” Tilly announced airily. She smirked at his goggling expression. “Bedroom’s through that door, yes?”

“Yes,” the count managed to croak.

“Great! I’ll be in your bed. Do hurry up with your sleeping clothes, if you like.” Bouncing up, Tilly kissed his cheek before flouncing away. Her tail swished behind her as she disappeared through the door.

Artoirel glanced at her abandoned nightclothes. He mustered himself and picked up the soft wool fabric. With shaking hands, he folded them and put them on one of the wingback chairs before his hearth. “Fury preserve me,” the elezen muttered. “What have I done to deserve such a woman?”

_I sleep in the nude._

_I sleep in the nude…_

Who else has seen her sleeping in the nude?!

(Somewhere on the First, a certain Crystal Exarch blushed hard. As did Alphinaud. And even Urianger. All for some unknown reason to them. What brought that on?!)

“Artoirel, stop thinking so much!” Tilly popped her head out the door. “Lots of people have seen me naked. Who cares?! Did you know there’s a private nude beach at Costa del Sol? It’s the best for basking.” Artoirel coughed, remembering that her warmly colored skin actually had no tan lines. “I didn’t sleep with anyone there, of course. I have standards.”

“Good to know,” he wheezed.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about it.” She beckoned him. “Come to bed,” she crooned like a siren’s call. And who was he to resist? Though he had carefully folder her clothes, the elezen left a trail of his own clothes crossing the solar. Tilly laughed as he picked her up, now just as naked as she. “Yay!”

Artoirel closed his bedroom door behind him with his heel. Before long, cries of pleasure echoed out, muffled by the walls and door. The fire in the solar hearth burned low.

* * *

“But… my lord has a morning appointment!” Artoirel’s chamberlain cried. He tried to go around the determined Honoroit. But the teen blocked the older elezen without fear, steps mirroring the other in some strange dance. Several maids peeked at the display and giggled.

“Your lord had a long night,” Honoroit replied.

“But the party ended early last eve!”

“Our lord count has had a long night,” the younger servant insisted. “So cancel the appointment.”

“I cannot on your say so, young man! You are not Lord Artoirel’s servant, but his brother’s!”

“Ah, but I do have the authority to speak when my brother is not available,” Emmanellain sauntered down the hall to intervene. “Come now, old boy, Artie isn’t to be disturbed this morn.” He smiled, winking at the relieved Honoroit. “Besides, that appointment was made under duress. What in the world makes you think he actually wants to meet with Lady Treminne and her daughters Drizella and Priscilla?”

“Either would be a fine match—“

“No, no, absolutely not. Drizella is a shrieking shrew panting after Fortemps gold, like my brother’s other stalkers. And Priscilla actually is in love with a commoner, a baker of some talent.”

“My lord!”

“What is going on out here?!” Artoirel, the man of the hour apparently, jerked open his solar door that led out to the hall. He only had a pair of soft cotton sleep pants on, his long hair messily hanging about his pointed ears. His long, bare feet peeked out underneath his pants hems. A maid squeaked and fainted. “Maximellian, what is the meaning of this?”

His chamberlain bobbed a quick bow. “My lord, forgive me! But you have a morning appointment….” The man trailed off as the Warrior of Light, wearing a long tunic, peeked around the lord count of the house. A tunic he knew belonged to his lord. Realization dawned. “Oh.” Well, apparently the pining had been mutual… Thank the Fury!

“Ah, I remember the appointment now…” Artoirel glanced at the miqo’te pressed against his side. Laughter was clear in her green eyes. “Cancel it. I have told that woman time and again that I have no interest in marrying Priscilla or her sister.” He stared at his chamberlain. “Will that be a problem, Max?”

_Are you going to cause a scene about the woman in my rooms?_

“No problem, my lord!” Max snapped a salute at him. “I shall cancel the appointment with all haste!” He cleared his throat. “And may I offer my congratulations?” He bowed and hurried away without being dismissed.

“Cheeky. I like him.” Tilly waved at the laughing maids. They waved back, pleased as punch by the fact that their lord had finally bagged the woman he’s been panting for. The warrior had always treated them with kindness and dignity, much like the lords of House Fortemps. One maid gave her a thumbs up. They scattered. “Hi, Emmy!”

Emmanellain laughed, slapping his leg. “Good morning!” He shot a sly look at his brother who scowled at him. “What lovely calves you have. If I had known that—“

“Good bye, Emmanellain.” Artoirel reeled Tilly back behind him. He closed the door, the sound of her laughter cutting off from the hall by the solid oak door.

Honoroit covered his mouth with his hands, giggling. Emmanellain waggled his eyebrows and began to walk down the hall again, headed for the stairs. Breakfast was calling him. “Oh, my lord! Wait for me!” The teen servant, nearly grown, hustled after him. “Pancakes, my lord?”

“Excellent idea, my boy!”

* * *

Tilly sighed as broad hands rubbed her back. The warm, firm strokes made her purr. She sank down to her elbows, her bottom up in the air. Her tail curved up and over. Those same hands trailed down to rub her flanks and the sides of her thighs. They gripped her cheeks, massaging the supple flesh and muscle. Tilly hummed, her ears drifting back. The fur of the rug beneath her tickled her breasts and belly. She lowered her torso more, stretching out her arms before her. The tunic she had borrowed had been tossed to the side.

A new fire crackled in the solar hearth of her lover’s rooms.

“Fury take me, you truly are free of tan lines.” Artoirel traced the few faint scars scattered on her back. He was kneeling behind her, eager to touch. “How often do you go to Costa del Sol?” He stroked up the sides of smooth thighs.

“As often as possible,” Tilly answered drowsily. “I prefer the tropical sun over the desert. The ocean breeze keeps it just the right amount of cool for basking without expiring.” Her breath hitched as his knuckles brushed against her lower lips. Thumbs spread her folds, dipping into the increasing wetness. Fingers began to stretch her entrance. “Artoirel.” She whimpered when he strummed her clit, circling it in tight little rings. She mewled, rocking back into the touch. “Please, don’t tease.”

Artoirel chuckled. He gripped her left hip, using his other hand to guide the head of his cock to her entrance. It nudged against her wet folds and they parted around it. He slowly sank into her for an ilm or so. He grabbed her other hip. Jerking her back toward him, he thrust hard into his lover. The elezen hilted inside with one stroke. Tilly’s breath whooshed out of her with a cough and moan. She clutched at the fur rug, crying out in time with his steady thrusting. The wet slapping of their skin meeting filled his pointed ears. Artoirel bent over her, her tail flopping over his shoulder. Black hair swung down to frame his face. Sweat coated his skin, a matching sheen on the woman below him.

Tilly wailed when he reached down to play with her swollen clit. High toned grunting that matched the rhythm of his cock plunging into her tumbled from her lips. Her breasts rubbed against the fur beneath her. The heat of the fire warmed her side and his. But the pleasure and pressure of her impending orgasm burned through her nerves. Her passage began to squeeze and flex as her peak approached. Artoirel bent further down, his breath ruffling her hair in to the space between her flicking ears on her head. He whispered his love and filthy encouragement alike as she climbed higher in her pleasure. His hand between her thighs worked faster.

The elezen hissed a curse as her cunt milked his cock. His lover’s mewling cry echoed in the solar as she crashed over the edge. He thrust through her orgasm to draw out her pleasure. Heat zinged up his spine and his hips jerked. Artoirel thrust deep to hilt his cock completely in her. Seed pulsed and painted her passage, her cunt eagerly squeezing for more. He groaned, Tilly’s moan harmonizing with the sound. Bruises bloomed beneath his hands as his grip tightened. He ground his hips against Tilly in an attempt to go deeper, the last of his orgasm overfilling her. His release leaked from the seam where they were joined and dripped down her inner thighs.

“Stay… Stay in there,” Tilly panted. “Don’t leave yet.”

Artoirel’s shoulders heaved. “By your… leave,” he replied. He straightened up his spine, tilting his head back. “Gods be good. How am I supposed to survive next week?”

Tilly giggled. “Herbs for non-miqo’te men exist for heats,” she said. Her ears flicked. She fought to slow her breathing. The miqo’te looked over her shoulder up at him. She folded her arms underneath her cheek. Her bottom was still up, her hips in his hands. “And there is no real side effects other than exhaustion after. Shall I request some?”

“From whom?”

“T tribe grows them. In Thanalan. T’tibba owes me so I may ask for seedlings too. That is, if you don’t mind me growing them?”

“Sweet, merciful Ma’tylda, please and thank you. I fear I would not make it, drained dry as I would be. May I exit now?” At her affirmative, Artoirel pulled out. Seed flowed and dribbled out of her in a wet mess. His softened cock hung down between his thighs. He grimaced. “I do believe we’ve ruined this rug…”

“Awww, I like this rug. It’s very good for sex by the fire~!” Tilly tipped over to her side to avoid the wet spot. She rolled over and kicked her feet in the air. “Though we should try everywhere else in your rooms too.” Artoirel sat on the rug with a laugh. He grabbed her ankle and dragged her back toward him. “Oi! That tickles!” The fur rubbed her sweaty back. Her hip was by his, her feet now resting up in one of the wingback chairs. She grinned at him. “Hello.”

Artoirel cupped her breast, thumbing the still perked nipple. The smooth skin pebbled into goosebumps as he stroked the outer and lower curves of her supple flesh. She wiggled happily. “Greetings, chérie,” he said, smiled. His blue eyes crinkled at the outer corners. “You are beautiful like this.”

“Naked and dripping your come?”

“Yes.”

“Well, good news for you. It’ll be a sight you’ll be seeing for a long time.”

“Especially next week,” he drawled. His lips quirked at her snorting laugh. “Shall I write the letter to your friend for the herbs?”

Tilly shrugged. “If you want. I was just gonna teleport there.” She folded her arms behind her head to pillow it. “The fee will be worth it. Would you like for me to grab other herbs?”

_Are you sure you want to father children now?_

“Just the herbs for non-miqo’te men, my love.”

_Yes._

“I look forward to the breeding.” The words seemed oddly formal, her tone serious. Tilly sat up, dislodging his hand. Her tail thumped the rug as she twisted around to kneel. She laid her hands on her thighs. She tilted up her chin, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. Her ears perked forward, her tail twitching at the tip by her feet. Green eyes seemed to stare deep into his soul.

A predator in a position of supplication.

“Artoirel de Fortemps.” Tilly exhaled slowly. At her tone, Artoirel straightened from his comfortable slump. He looked at her. Something told him to kneel, to mirror her posture. So he did. “I must needs ask of you for your attention.” The elezen nodded his go ahead. “My heat approaches, my first of three this year.” Tilly took a deep breath. She bowed her head. “I ask that you see me through my heat as my nuhn, my breeding male.” She swallowed. “My partner. I ask that you father my kits. For there shall be no other. None are worthy but thee. So I deem it as my right as a Sun Seeker woman without nuhn or tia save for my sire and brother. I ask this and more. Will you accept my suit?”

By the Fury, was this the miqo’te version of a marriage proposal?! Naked?!

“I accept.” Artoirel answered, unwilling to chance it. Of course the Warrior of Light, slayer of Nidhogg, savior of Eorzea and the First, would beat him to the punch. He had thought to take her to dinner, to start actually courting her instead of tupping her. Halone’s tits! Yet he bowed his head. “It would be my honor.”

“Great!” Tilly chirped, breaking the solemn mood. She straddled his thighs and threw her arms around his neck. She nuzzled his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her torso in bewilderment. “I was so worried, ya know!”  
  
“Halone have mercy, Ma’tylda! Where did that come from?”

“Tradition.”

Artoirel rolled his eyes. “I figured that much.” He kissed her temple. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you silly.” He nuzzled her neck, scraping his blunt teeth along her skin. “May I….” He peppered kisses on her shoulder. “May I court you, Ma’tylda? With the intent of marriage?”

“Yes. Though we probably shouldn’t be doing any of this naked… Oops.” Tilly leaned back only to come forward to kiss him. His mouth moved with hers, tongues rubbing together. Her hands smoothed down his chest and abdomen. “Oh hello there,” she murmured against his lips. He smirked. Her slim hands wrapped around his hardening cock. “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

Artoirel laughed and bore her backward onto a drier spot on the rug. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her ankles rose higher by his ribs as he claimed her body with his. Their fingers intertwined as he moved her hands above her head.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

A year later, with the Scions plus a certain former oracle of Light back on the Source, Edmont de Fortemps found himself surrounded by twin grandchildren with bright eyes and short miqo ears. Happy babbling filled the Manor. He laughed in delight, holding them in his arms. A gleeful Emmanellain, eternally off the hook in regards to marriage and children, slapped palms with Honoroit. Feo Ul, always visiting their sapling and their sapling’s saplings, went back and forth to tell G’raha of the children’s latest shenanigans as they grew.

The Exarch’s smile was always brighter after each story.

In Halone’s Halls in the heavens, Haurchefant and Ysayle exchanged a fist bump. “My plan was flawless. Look at my adorable niece and nephew!” the Ishgardian knight crowed to the former vessel of Shiva. “They are fine children of House Fortemps!”

“They are wonderful,” Ysayle conceded with a warm smile. “I look forward to the unfolding of their tales.”

“Here, here! They shall make us proud!”

“Puff up anymore and you’ll float away, you big fool.” But her eyes belied her fondness. She shook her head as the man began doing squats, unable to contain his glee.

Back among the living, during a family only garden party, Artoirel bent down and held up his wife’s hand, kissing her knuckles. A smile curled his lips. He looked at her with awe in his blue eyes. Tilly smiled back up at him, glowing with happiness. She curled her other arm around Ryne’s shoulders. The girl beamed at her.

Nearby were the girl’s guardians, Thancred and Urianger, shyly holding hands. Alphinaud and Alisaie stood by Lord Edmont, making silly faces at the newest set of twins among them. Y’shtola and Krile were discussing the latest healer’s tome in soft whispers. Tataru hummed and kicked her feet whilst sitting on the settee, leaning against Krile. In a little group around the dessert table, Estinien and Lucia attempted to stop Aymeric from eating his fourth slice of honey and birch syrup cake.

And beyond the gates of Ishgard, spring slowly came back to the highlands.

* * *

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for a happy ending! Sorry not sorry! :P

**Author's Note:**

> Tap that kudos button and/or leave a comment if you like! Thanks for reading this monstrosity!


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